Consequences of Rain
by the infamou5 c0pyc4t
Summary: Forced to take shelter underneath a crummy awning in the middle of nowhere, Ichigo and Tatsuki have to rely on each other's body heat to keep warm. (Not sure if this one will continue) MA
1. Chapter 1

**Consequences of the Rain**

"Dammit! Where'd this rain come from?"

"It always shows up out of nowhere."

"I know that! Why didn't you think to bring an umbrella?!"

"Why would I bring an umbrella on a sunny day?!"

Bickering was their norm. They were friends, closer than most of the people they hung around with, yet they also squabbled the most, hardly ever finding the time to have rational and pleasant conversation with one another. Others looked at them like an old married couple; Orihime thought it was cute – though her mind ran through the paces of more unique, improbable and usually outrageous situations for the two – while Michiru wondered how Tatsuki could ever speak to Ichigo when Ichigo looked so… gruff.

That gruff exterior only came from inner turmoil and years of fending off the delinquents that thought he was one of them. No helping the natural color of his hair; he wouldn't think of dying it… The color was that of his mom's hair. Despite what Michiru – or anyone else for that matter – thought, he wasn't the thug they wanted to think he was.

Tatsuki was one who understood that perhaps better than anyone else, which was why she could talk – or argue – with him in any way she saw fit.

This meet-up, however, was completely by chance, running into one another while Tatsuki was on her way home from practice. Ichigo was already on the abandoned road; on the side of it, actually, loitering after placing a flower at a certain spot. Tatsuki had called out to him when she saw him, and he trudged through the short grass to converse. Immediately following their initial exchange of greeting, the deluge began, sudden and heavy. Both were soaked long before they sought the protection of an old, run-down roof further off the road, where the underbrush was slowly reclaiming the building that the awning had belonged to. An inconsequential fire some years ago; no one was hurt, the damage was forgettable, and the plot of land was left alone. Too bad, because Ichigo and Tatsuki would've preferred an actual building to seek refuge in instead of squatting together underneath the slant of wood.

They both sat down on the stone steps that had salvaged very little dryness; Tatsuki and Ichigo had to sit shoulder-to-shoulder – and closer still! – to keep themselves from letting their butts soak in freezing rain. Tatsuki frowned at her legs, exposed to the wet cold. It was too much of a hassle to carry around more than one set of clothing after school. So she was stuck in her school uniform, unable to switch to her karate outfit; as if it would fight the cold any better, but she didn't need to strip in front of Ichigo. She knew him as honorable, but still a boy.

Ichigo quietly stared out at the ripples the rain made in the puddles. The rain never improved his mood, especially not in places like this.

"So was it a ghost?"

He looked at Tatsuki, and she gave him a smirk. "You were all alone out here, putting down flowers. Was it the boy?"

Ichigo exhaled, and then rubbed the back of his head. He didn't like talking about ghosts; it made him seem crazy. But there were those who seem convinced: Tatsuki, Chad, Mizuiro; Keigo was skeptic just about everything, thinking the whole 'talking to ghosts' bit was a way to seem interesting to girls. Tatsuki knew Ichigo better than that.

"He wasn't there," he answered, still looking away from Tatsuki. Nope, the boy was gone. The only thing Ichigo found at the remembrance site was a black butterfly; an unusual sighting, but not worth mentioning, in his opinion.

The two friends, normally so talkative when other people were around, were quiet for the moment. Rainy days and ghosts weren't a pleasant mix where Ichigo was concerned. It was days like today that reminded him of what he lost. Tatsuki wasn't one to tease on that base.

On the other hand, _other_ bases…

"Sorry about the soccer game," she said, and when he looked at her, she winked an eye and smirked arrogantly. "I thought you'd be smart enough to dodge my Dragon Kick."

Ichigo grimaced at her obvious taunt, and then turned away with a scoff. "I caught it." And he did, but the propulsion of Tatsuki's ball kick shoved him back far enough that it was counted as a goal.

"Still made it," she seethed with pride. She stretched her wet arms out in front of her, saying to the benefit of her ego, "I thought I'd gotten rusty. I pulled a hamstring two weeks ago and couldn't practice my kicks. Guess there was nothing to worry about."

Her hubris didn't impress Ichigo, and he continued to make a face of apathetic disdain. He could make the argument that she'd the benefit of a team of competent players; Orihime and Ryo were more than enough to distract Keigo, and Mizuiro was never into the game. Only Chad was working defense, but… Tatsuki was right to boast. Her legs were amazing.

Ichigo eyed her briefly, and then looked away in check of his last thought. The _strength_ of her legs, he amended.

Following her jibe was a moderate moment of silence and the reflection of the patter of rain. Under the narrow roof, they weren't getting any dryer, and the water was setting into their core. The idea to head out was given by Ichigo; his house was closest at a few blocks away. But Tatsuki, having drawn her arms tight around her, refused.

"The rain shouldn't last too long," she contended, looking away from the boy she was shoulder-to-shoulder with. Before Ichigo could say that the rain could last all day, she added in a mumble, "Besides, your dad always acts up whenever I come over."

Ichigo stopped there, a little red in the face for the embarrassment his father caused. Luckily, only his closest friends knew of his dad's 'eccentric' tendencies, and they weren't the kind to spread it around. How tough could he seem, after all, with a goon of a father?

Scratching at his cheek, he mumbled an agreement. He looked up to check the sky. A thick gray… This rain wasn't about to let up any time soon. "I hope Yuzu and Karin got home okay," he heard Tatsuki say. He glanced at her and saw her looking skyward. "Yuzu hates the rain."

"Yeah…"

Small wonder; rain connected the whole of the Kurosaki family to their lost sun.

They did not speak any more of sad things and simply waited. Tatsuki, despite her best efforts, cringed and shivered with arms wrapped around her, trying to bring warmth to her core. The shiver and the chatter of teeth did not go unnoticed. Ichigo gestated for a moment with the idea, and then acted against his better judgment.

Tatsuki gasped when her grabbed her other side, scooping her up and drawing her onto him. Her thighs sat perpendicular on his, but her upper body was drawn against his. "What are you doing?" she barked at him, resisting him. "Idiot! Let go!" But his hands were insistent; he brought her against him and held her to his warmth.

"Just shut up," he told her, eyes closed. "It's bad enough that we're wet. We can at least stay a little warm like this."

Tatsuki pursed her lips, but held her tongue. This was awkward. She understood his intentions; she never thought him a pervert, after all. Even so, feeling him so intimately was different and new to her. And she cursed her fortune…

What a time not to wear a bra. Normally, on training days, she would forgo the support until home; too much hassle putting it on and taking it off between class and practice. The rain was not helping, as a wet, white blouse was a pervert's fantasy, and the cold was an enemy. She blushed a hard crimson, certain that Ichigo could feel her rigid nipples digging against his chest. She wanted to pull away, even if the heat of him through their damp clothes was tenderly inviting. The hands shoving against him inevitably fisted in his wet shirt, and quietly, she called him a moron, tucking her unusually-shy face into his collarbone. She felt his head turn away.

She was right; Ichigo felt the two distinctive bumps nudging his sternum from the twin swells of her chest. However, he forced himself not to react to it beyond the reddening of his face. Good thing Tatsuki wasn't staring directly at him, or she'd know something was wrong and would guess what that something was. They could tease and egg each other all day, but making the other feel uncomfortable was never part of their relationship. It was rare, after all, to find someone of the opposite sex who could just be a friend.

Tatsuki wished she was likeminded, but as she sat on top of him, clinging to his chest, she considered how she felt about Ichigo. She was a fighter, someone who liked being strong, and Ichigo had been her punching bag in the dojo for years before he finally toppled her. He had left after his first and only victory, and while she stayed to hone her talent, he chose a life of schoolwork and street brawls – the latter, not by choice. Those who stayed felt that Ichigo was wasting himself by not remaining, and Tatsuki partially felt the same, but unlike the others of the dojo, she didn't hold it against him. Ichigo was just too soft, and being the strong girl she was, Tatsuki felt she would resent _that_.

But she didn't. Couldn't…

She knew Orihime had feelings for Ichigo, despite hardly knowing him, and Tatsuki wanted the best for her best friend. Her own desire, however, conflicted with these sentiments. After all, in the dojo, she was an unobtainable queen; outside, she was a fiery dragon. In both sides of her life, guys saw her too intimidating and just didn't measure up to her standards. In some ways, she felt she was perhaps gay or at least bisexual; she found it easier to see the lure of girls, someone to protect and admire for their gentleness like Orihime or to combat and grow stronger together with like a competitive rival she had met in a recent tournament. She'd fantasized before, but when it came to the opposite sex, she'd never admit out loud that Ichigo was the only one who played in them.

And now, she found herself here, in one of the most cliché settings imaginable with him, sinking against his body for warmth and protection against a brutal rain. She wanted to hate it, but he was so warm, and the rain did not wash away his faint scent of chocolate – his favorite – and strawberries. Was it his breath, some snack his fingers smeared onto his clothes, or just some natural aroma that led his parents to accept the moniker?

Whatever it was, she liked it. It put her at ease, and with the warmth of him – how little there was after being soaked – she could practically fall asleep…

Ichigo grunted softly in surprise when he felt Tatsuki shift. Operating his neck like a crane, he tucked his chin in to look at her against his chest. She seemed resolute not to look at him, even having something of a pout on her face as she situated her legs until she was flat-out straddling his lap. After her knees locked at either side of his waist, she went still again in that pouty silence.

"I wasn't comfortable," she said quietly.

This stance was more comfortable; Ichigo wouldn't argue that. But he also wouldn't argue that the positioning of her legs and where her crotch settled had unnerved him. He would give her space if he could, but she was bearing down on him to fight the chill, and the war he raged with teenage hormones became much harder in all senses.

His hands carefully wound around her, testing the space covered until he was certain that a right hook wasn't going to be her answer to a warmth-giving embrace. Pure intentions, he told himself, but for that one part of him… He was already jutting against the front of his trousers, and while Tatsuki may not suspect it, their current situation found his underside running along the crotch of her panties. Breasts and hardened nipples were one thing, he considered with childlike embarrassment; there was little innocent about his independently-thinking appendage growing against her body. In spite of the damp cold and even his willful integrity, he'd met full-mast before his mind could start reeling in the most diverting things, like baseball or the last delinquent he'd smashed into the ground. Yuki-chin or something…

But however his thoughts strayed, it took just the merest movement of Tatsuki's hips to reel him back to the danger he was now in. If the rain stopped soon, he might have a chance to calm down if he was lucky enough for Tatsuki to still not notice until he put his school bag over the lump.

"You better not tell anyone about this," she murmured, her low voice hitting his collarbone. They were close enough that he could practically feel the wry smirk that she tried to withhold. "Your dad would go crazy if he heard you did these kinds of things."

"Stupid," he mumbled back. "We're just trying to get warm."

"… Right…"

Then Tatsuki's hands fisted the front of his shirt, and she briefly acted like she couldn't decide whether to sit or stand anymore. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly. She felt something off, and it was invading her most personal space. Though she'd never had an encounter this intimate before – least of all with a boy – it was a good guess what it was.

If he'd been Keigo, for one thing, he'd never get her hands on her; and for another, he'd be unconscious the moment she felt the rise. But Ichigo, she had felt it almost immediately when she straddled him. It was just hard to believe it was _him_. He'd always acted so asexual that she didn't give much thought to him being a pervert.

"What are you thinking?" she said, her voice a mixture of anger and uncertainty. Her eyes flashed up at him, the first glimpse of the brown orbs since taking her in his arms. He held his mouth shut, though he regarded her with a mortified blush.

"It's… not like I can help it," he said quietly in his defense.

"I thought it was too cold for _that_ to happen," she teased with a smirk.

Tatsuki settled back down, her weight easing onto his lip like she could break the shaft nestled beneath her. She looked back up at him again, and then asked, her voice unusually meek, "Does it hurt when I'm like this?"

If he'd blushed any hotter, the rain on his head would turn to steam. Why did it have to be like this?! He didn't want _this_ to be how they spent their afternoon. He just wanted her to stay warm. "Not really," he answered, and hoped all would stop there. It wasn't a topic of conversation he would feel comfortable with, even if it was Tatsuki. All he hoped for was for the rain to stop.

The rain did not stop, and Tatsuki moved again. Her weight pressed down against his jutting muscle, and a warning protest almost slipped from his lips. But his lips were sealed, and not by his own accord. Tatsuki's mouth moved deftly, and he hadn't any idea what was happening until after she'd taken his first kiss.

Tatsuki kissed the way people probably imagined her to: with mighty confidence. She'd gestated on how to react to this situation, and really, what better time to have a first kiss than here, in the rain, snuggled up against the one boy she actually liked? Even when she needed air – Ichigo _definitely_ needing some! – she remained latched, holding Ichigo's head in place as she expressed what he meant to her.

His head was swimming when he felt the hot assault of Tatsuki's tongue running against his vulnerable lips; if he wanted to refuse her, she did not allow it, pushing through and finding that the chocolate smell had been his breath. He was mostly unresponsive, though his tongue – after tentatively sliding against hers – withdrew.

She purged his lips until she was ready to pull back, and both were gasping. She didn't waste time looking at him for approval; she didn't want to hear what he had to say. "Tatsuki," he managed, but she immediately rebuked him, telling him to be quiet while she did as she wanted.

Ichigo gasped when she leaned her body back just enough to plunge her hands between them and to the buckle of his belt. Short work, yet the bigger challenge were the button and zipper. Fumbling fingers didn't make quick workers, but she was determined enough to work through them, ignoring Ichigo's ramblings; she hadn't expected him to act any other way.

She kissed him again and yanked his zipper down. His lips peeled back when he gasped, the sudden release of pressure and isolation in that region catching him by surprise. Her kiss did not last as long this time, her mind set on other things; particularly the thing just beneath his gray boxers.

"Tatsuki!"

She reached without hesitation, fingers spreading the convenient folds to discover his solid heat. It felt different than she thought it would; very stiff, unbending. At the same time, it was smooth, particularly the head when her thumb drew a lazy circle around it.

Ichigo's breathing became heavy and uneven, huffs of chocolate-scented clouds dispersing in the cold air. "Tatsuki," he wheezed one more time. "What are you doing?" His eyes followed her, trepidation within them as she carefully mounted his surfaced lust.

"Just shut up," she whispered to him. Her eyes had closed in focus as she held him steady and wagged her hips, trying to find the right moment and place for descent. Her panties, wet from more than just the rain by now, were shifted to one side for him from her free hand, but when she loosely connected the passageway to her body to his tip, that hand slid up his sternum to grasp at his shoulder.

Aside from a mewling whimper or a heavy gasp, Ichigo said nothing. He wasn't about to throw her off him, and… well… It was Tatsuki…

His hands found their place on her backside. His tip slid between her folds; slick petals edged by the coarseness of hair. Then she brought him to the dip, the area that led to her innermost parts? And she took him inside.

The cold was replaced immediately by heat, and Ichigo inhaled sharply. So this was the warmth of a woman! She welcomed him in from the cold and surrounded him with slick, wet heat. It felt nothing if not inviting, and while Tatsuki maintained a slow and steady decline, his hips eagerly raced up and buried himself completely… which may have been a mistake, given Tatsuki's following outburst. He was stuck against something, and vague memories of health class warned him that he may have been too hasty for her first time.

Tatsuki, however, could console him that her maidenhead had not been a concern for her for some time thanks to rigorous training. Her wail was in response to the sudden jab against her cervix, a place deeper than her fingers had ever wandered before, and he struck against it with the grace of a battering ram.

"Not so rough," she berated him. He muttered out a winded apology, wordlessly vowing not to act so impulsively again. But such vows would be moot; it was by Tatsuki's motions that they commenced. She strapped herself onto Ichigo and began to lift and drop her waist in the best rhythm she could manage. For her, rhythm was second nature, and after the initial overwhelming stimulation, she was riding Ichigo in fluid thrusts. Once or twice, Ichigo fumbled and impatiently drove into her, throwing off her pace, but a simple rebuke was all that was returned to him before she went back to her tempo.

Their moans mashed together when she held Ichigo's head, tilting it upward and pushed her lips on his. This kiss was more ravenous than before; Ichigo responded with more passion, and Tatsuki was not to be outdone. His careful licking met with the domineering conquest of her own tongue as it wound around his and probed his mouth.

A hand stayed on her rump, but Ichigo couldn't help boyhood curiosity. He latched his palm onto her left breast and fondled it in the tight space between their bodies. The rain had her white blouse soaked through, and if he was daring enough to peek, he'd see that it had become a transparent, gray veil that did left imagination wanting. Her breasts were much fuller than anyone would think, fitting Ichigo's hand nicely with still some expanse left over. She was a C-cup, though it wasn't something she bragged about. But the brown tip was Ichigo's focus as he ran his finger over it experimentally, surprised by how rigid and plump it was.

"Ichigo…! _Ichigo!_" Tatsuki's hips pounded down harder and harder, the bottom of her thighs splashing in the tiny puddles forming in the creases in his lap. "You… _Ah!_... Tell me when!"

Ichigo didn't want to leave her disappointed, but the simple fact was – even if he embarrassedly masturbated every now and then – he was inexperienced, and he wouldn't last much longer… Since delving into her, his undercarriage had tightened expectantly. He swelled; she could feel the jolting mass open her wider.

He announced two things: her name, and his release. Tatsuki had just finished her downward stroke when the warning was given. She should dismount, but against logic, her thirsty snatch stayed upon him and waited. But she was not idle. If he was storming on to his release, she needed to catch up, and while she held his shoulder, she also used a hand to wedge between them and find the jewel that yearned for stimulus. She cried out when she found it with experienced ease, caressing and rubbing vigorously. To her shock, when Ichigo's panting mouth caught her next moan, she found that she'd won the race, violent spasms and an abundance of her own essence slathered Ichigo's embedded shaft before its powerful pulsations ushered in the hot glide of his release. The hand on her rump squeezed as did the one holding her breast; what should have invoked pain actually made her cry out in rapture. She'd wear his fingers' prints like a badge and harbor his seed in her womb as she would this encounter: a secret.

Gasping and desperate to cling onto something, Ichigo embraced her at her midsection, pulling her to him and pushing the side of his face against her breasts. No doubt he could hear her racing heartbeat as she, coming down from her orgasm, cradled his head to her. She dipped and sniffed his sweet, fruit scent…

"Tatsuki…" His voice was low, soft, gentle.

Slowly, her tired eyes opened.

"It stopped raining."

When she came to her senses, she found herself pressed into Ichigo's sternum, and he was looking skyward. Above them, the gray clouds broke, and the sun shone from the center of rainbow rings. She was seated on Ichigo's lap still, but she hadn't straddled him. She must've dozed to a daydream when she first caught whiff of him, so soothing was his presence. She wasn't… entirely disappointed.

Ridding herself of her drowsiness, she shoved off of him, rebuking him for holding her for so long when it was unnecessary. "I'm not Yuzu," she said to him in a sharp tone, turning up her nose and closing her eyes in a haughty manner. "We just needed to stay warm. You're the one acting weird." She held her schoolbag over her shoulder, and her back was turned to Ichigo as he glowered at her and cursed her name; she was glad he didn't have view of her transparent top, for with a splash of red across her face, she noted how proudly her brown nipples stuck out against the fabric, goosebumps tightening her skin.

"It was my idea to stay warm in the first place," he growled as he stood up, his bag dangling from his fingers. Looking up, he observed the ominous clouds, "We probably have just a few minutes before it starts up again."

"Then let's make a run for it." She turned to him and smiled her excited smile whenever there was an opportunity for a challenge between them. "I can probably make it to your house before you!"

His eyebrows lowered and flattened his eyes. "I thought you said you wouldn't want to go to my place."

"It's fine, it's fine!" she said, dismissively waving her free hand at him. "Anything's better than cuddling up with you in the rain!"


	2. Chapter 2

**This story is plot-based now. Please don't expect the usual copier-ness; I wanna try something with this.**

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**Storm**

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It was perhaps the kind of situation Orihime fantasized about: forced into Ichigo's empty house by the rain, warmed by a hot shower, and having nothing to dress in but Ichigo's boxers – blue and orange striped – and a plain white t-shirt.

Tatsuki couldn't help feeling a little guilty about it. But the rain had started again, and it wasn't like Ichigo was going to let her wait it out in soggy clothes. Bad enough the treachery of wet t-shirts…

He had suggested to throw their clothes in the dryer, but she was the one to handle it all. Of course, Ichigo moved that he didn't like the idea of a guest of his doing chores, but Tatsuki immediately contested with a wary scowl that she didn't want him handling her clothes – i.e. her underwear. She also felt it'd be better that he _didn't_ know that she hadn't worn a bra today, even if their earlier intimacy already let him in on that fact.

And so, their clothes were thrown into the wash for the full service. The rain seemed to be turning into a storm, so they were not pressed for time. Yuzu and Karin were staying at a friend's house closer to their school, and their dad had left a note – themed with a superhero Isshin mascot – stating that he was helping out at the Ishida hospital. And while their clothes dried, the two warmed their bones in the shower; at respective times, of course.

"Sorry that we don't have anything else for you to wear," Ichigo said unapologetically, a towel atop his damp head as he returned from his shower. He was dressed also in a white t-shirt, but while he'd also wear boxers if allowed the privacy of the entire house, he felt it more appropriate to wear his baggy pajama bottoms while Tatsuki was around. "My sisters don't have anything bigger."

Tatsuki, sitting cross-legged on the bed, looming over an old volume of a manga that she'd given to Ichigo years ago, looked up at him with a slight sneer. Maybe he didn't mean to, but he seemed to lack tact when speaking to the opposite sex. "Who are you calling big?" she growled like a dragon being rustled from a dream.

At once, Ichigo rolled his eyes, tussled his hair with his towel and then tossed it into the corner of the room. He wouldn't dignify her inferred accusation with a response. Right now, there was the matter that the two of them were in his room when they had a whole house/clinic to themselves. Under normal circumstances, if she came over, they would be secluded to his room, doing homework or discussing movies, manga or school.

Therefore, he pointed with his thumb to the door. "Wanna watch TV while the clothes dry?"

Tatsuki closed the manga and slid off the bed, walking behind Ichigo down the stairs. He suggested making a snack, and Tatsuki asked what the options were. When, after giving some thought to the question, he admitted that he wasn't entirely sure what they had in the kitchen.

"You only let Yuzu-chan work in the kitchen," Tatsuki scolded, fisting the sides of her hips as they met the bottom floor. "That's why you have no idea."

"She _insists _on handling the food," Ichigo grumbled over his shoulder. "Don't make it sound like I'm forcing her to stay in the kitchen." He turned his head forward and spoke of a time when he tried to make himself breakfast once. Yuzu had a fit and chased him out with a frying pan and spatula. Tatsuki took some pleasure in knowing this story, and Ichigo realized the folly of telling her.

Regardless, the two sat as friends in front of the television, skimming through the channels and trying to decide on something to watch. A rerun of 'Drop In' was showing, and Ichigo hastened to skip it; Tatsuki didn't mind in the slightest.

"I heard there were rumors that he might visit Karakura soon," she said with obvious dislike. "Orihime likes him, but…"

"Keigo and Mizuiro, too," Ichigo grumbled, though he partially suspected that their like of Kanonji was born from the idea of annoying him.

"_Heh!_ Some friends you got, Ichigo," Tatsuki teased with a wink.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, set down the controller, and stood up. "I'll look for something to eat," he said.

Tatsuki was about to let him go, take the remote and channel-surf by herself, but then she had a change of mind and hopped in line behind him again, trying to ignore his strawberry/chocolate scent. She shoved next to him. "You'll probably grab the first bag of chips you see. I'm starting to train for the tournament of women martial arts. I have to be careful with my diet."

Ichigo just scoffed, but thought of what was good and healthy while watching TV. He preferred the usual snacks. Whatever was in the fridge was Yuzu's territory; eating anything that was being saved for dinner would be met with a hard scolding from a soft voice.

Therefore, Tatsuki and Ichigo rummaged through the cabinets. Mostly spices and other cooking material; they found a bag of chips – Tatsuki did – but she looked sternly at Ichigo and set them back in place. "For Karin," she explained firmly, and Ichigo rolled his eyes.

And there it was, on the top shelf, were rice balls; neatly packaged triangles with bean paste in the center (and admittedly, copier has no idea if that's an accurate snack in Japan and briefly contemplates his lack of culture).

"How'd they get up there?" Ichigo mumbled, not remembering storing them himself. Probably snacks that Karin stored away for 'emergencies', or Yuzu tried to hide from their gluttonous father.

In the moment that he puzzled, Tatsuki had already hiked a knee onto the counter. "Alright," she grunted softly, careful to keep her balance on the slim ledge.

"Hey! Hold on!" Ichigo's hands hovered at Tatsuki's sides, ready to catch her if her sock-clad feet slipped on the smooth surface. "I'll get them! You just wait-!"

"You're taking too long," she snapped at him, "and I'm hungry!" She crouched like a gargoyle on the countertop, hands now trying to stabilize underneath her. All at once, her butt jutted out, and Ichigo's face indirectly met with the firm crevice. He sunk between the prompt cheeks, and he was just as embarrassed as Tatsuki when she shrieked back at him. "What are you-?!"

Ichigo had already withdrawn, eyes crossed, cheeks dyed red and the faintest evidence of an oncoming nosebleed in place. He dropped hard, and Tatsuki fell on top of him after snatching a few rice balls. Three scattered across the floor, but the fourth was smooshed between their two bodies. The wrapping had exploded, and their shirts were smeared with rice and bean paste.

"Dammit, Ichigo!"

Ichigo, groaning and rubbing the back of his head, gave her a one-eyed glare. "It's not my fault," he growled at her, and then sized up the mess. Crushed rice on his shirt as well as Tatsuki. Her breasts were covered with the stuff, though he tried not to take ample notice. He instead focused on himself. "I guess we'll have to change again."

Tatsuki put out her bottom lip in a subtle scowl that hid her uncommon inhibition. Ichigo felt it too, though he tried not to address it. She was on top of him again, weight pressing down firmly. She'd propped herself up with bracing arms, but her breasts… They were against him still, and she hadn't chosen to take herself away from him just yet.

His eyes were turned away, sliding along the rim of his bottom lid before he looked at her. He made a noise, trying to figure out his next sentence. But her eyes on his stalled him.

How had they not known? How had they not heard?! The front door had opened, and a full stock of Kurosakis plus one had filled the entryway to the kitchen. Karin saw the scattered rice balls, lamenting that her hiding place was too easily discovered; that was her sensible concern, as she refused to make more out of the scene like Yuzu and her dad did. Yuzu, seeing her older brother crammed underneath a girl – even Tatsuki-chan! – was flushed red, but her reaction was nothing to the flabbergasted, slack-jawed, blubbering, stuck-between-weeping-and-shouting father.

Isshin's face sweated bullets, and he'd gone blue from apprehension. His son?! Acting so deplorably in the kitchen?! Under his roof?! Finally, his mustered up enough sense to draw up his bottom lip in a scolding glare at his son.

Amidst the impending family squabble, little Midoriko – having the misfortune of getting stuck walking home with Yuzu and her terrifying sister, and then being found by their clownish dad – felt that her chances were better out in the rain. Surely, Beard-Face Ojisan would remember to call her parents (remember, this takes place before everyone and their unborn son had a cell phone) after he finished lunging over to his son – still beneath the black-haired girl – and grabbing fistfuls of his shirt.

"_ICHIGO~! How could you?!_" sobbed Isshin, still in between emotions as angry eyes overflowed with tears of paternal woe. "_I raised you better than this! I know you're at that age, and you think that all girls think that way too! __**Sob! Sniff!**_" He took notice of the food staining Ichigo's shirtfront and fumed all the more for it."_You could at least have waited to make a move until Tatsuki had put down the food!_"

As Ichigo growled a threat at him after being dropped back to the floor, Isshin addressed Tatsuki, grabbing her shoulders and straightening her at arms' length. "Tatsuki-chan, what has my foul beast of a son done to you? I am so sorry for his prepubescent behavior! It's the puberty!" He leaned in close, eyes sharp and suspicious; Ichigo had turned into a ghost, his glares and threats of death unheard by his father. "Did… did he maul you?" he breathed heavily, bracing for the worst.

"_Uh…_" Was it really the right thing to ask the person _above_ the other? A fat drop of nervous sweat formed at the back of her head. "No," was her weak-carrying answer.

"Are you alright?! I'll discipline my son!" He shook her in his passion. "You'll never have to deal with his brutish behavior again! _Grk!_"

Ichigo came up fast and knocked the point of his elbow into Isshin's chin, throwing his old man onto his back to cringe and cry out to his daughters how violently his own son treats him. Yuzu, as usual, was unfazed by her dad's cries – still in mourning of Ichigo's 'lost innocence' – while Karin callously said that he deserved worse for acting so dumb in front of company. She then looked at Tatsuki and Ichigo; she tossed them both two of the rice balls she picked up from the floor. "You better take your chance now, Ichi-nii," she grumbled with a motion to the stairs with her thumb.

"Yeah, thanks." Ichigo moved past his sister with Tatsuki awkwardly in tow; she briefly acknowledged the family in respectful greeting.

"And you owe me for the rice balls," Karin added.

"Yeah, thanks," Ichigo repeated flatly.

As they climbed the stairs, they heard Karin say to Midoriko, "I saw that you had leftovers from lunch. Give me some."

"_Um…_ okay? C-can I call my mom now?"

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"Your dad's still spirited," Tatsuki said, unsure if she should smile or feel sorry for Ichigo.

"I barely ever bring anyone home," Ichigo confessed, sitting at his desk while she leaned on his bed. He looked to the side with a reproachful frown and spoke his mind, "I think my dad would get along with Keigo too well."

Tatsuki's eyes turned upward as she imagined such a team-up. The level of annoyance would surely surpass Ichigo's small level of tolerance for it.

Before she came back from the idea, a shirt was thrown into her face, and she immediately snapped at Ichigo as he also took another shirt for himself; he feigned ignorance when she shouted about him throwing things at her face. "You weren't paying attention," he excused himself casually. And just as casually, his messed shirt came off. Not a big deal… Not a big deal at all, Tatsuki thought with pursed lips while forcing herself to find the other side of the room more interesting than her friend's solid body. Not like he was any different than the men at dojos and tournaments that removed/tore off their shirts to emphasize their strength and show off the build of their body.

But Ichigo had that litheness to his frame, a restriction that she found…

_Nothing!_

She pushed those thought down, burying them under her frustrations with him and the fact that she was stuck here in his room, undressing in front of each other. Well, he was… and she needed to.

Casting Ichigo a look that was somewhat indistinguishable – he arched his eyebrow at her, for he hadn't seen her look at him that way since they had their final match in the dojo – she stood up as if in defiance of him. She strode to the door, then stopped short.

"What are you…?"

Ichigo's eyes bugged out, and he almost toppled in his seat when, in a swift move, she took off her shirt with the ease he'd shown. Covering the lower part of his enflamed face, anticipating a squirt from his nose, he condemned her lewdness!

"Who's lewd?" she barked back over her shoulder, holding the new shirt against her chest. "Just turn around if it bothers you so much!"

While she slipped on the shirt, and while he tried not to notice the expanse of her breasts from behind, he pointed out that she could have changed in the bathroom or his sisters' room or have him leave the room. "Your dad's acting up." She tugged the hem of the shirt, straightening it. "The less he sees of me, the better."

Ichigo was still blushing, but he had to agree. "Still…"

"_Heh!_ You act like a prude," she teased, leaning forward, unintentionally showcasing the weight of her breasts as the shirt failed to support them. Her eyes narrowed, and she added, "But I know about your secret." She looked to the corner of his mattress, and there was a knowing gleam that made Ichigo's heart lunge into his throat.

"Wh-what are you talking about?!" His bluffs – particularly in matters such as these – were rather weak.

And Tatsuki was always willing to call him on them. A swift hand went to where her eyes had been trained, and before Ichigo could stand up or even tell her not to, she retrieved the magazine from underneath his mattress; a pink magazine with a dark-skinned woman on the cover, black hair just beneath her ears and a cocky smirk on her full lips, dressed only in tight jeans and a nice, clean pair of black boots. She was turned away from the camera, but her arm still crossed the expanse of her heavy bust.

The woman wasn't the topic – although gorgeous – but the magazine itself made Tatsuki snicker victoriously, and Ichigo was in stunned contempt. The slight smirk turned into a wide, toothy grin, and Tatsuki chuckled more; not malevolently, she said, "You're not so different from Asano after all."

"He's the one who gave that to me in the first place!" Ichigo leapt up to make a grab for the magazine. "He snuck it into my backpack two days ago!"

Tatsuki pulled out of his reach. "But you still have it?"

"How'd you even know?!"

"_Ha-ha!_ I was alone in your room! I just guessed, and you were cliché!"

She laughed at Ichigo's panic and determination as he tried to lean over her to get back the nudie mag. She taunted him, he shot back at her, they tangled, and a hopeful leap brought them both down in a whirl; Ichigo, subconsciously, grabbing Tatsuki to him so she could fall on top of him, so he could cushion her fall.

They went down in a heap, the playboy soaring across the room. It was forgotten almost immediately. Their position, intimate and alone, stirred the feelings of two teenagers who normally masked their emotions beneath a tough façade. Tatsuki was the first to realize that she was on top of Ichigo; he was reeling a bit after his head thudded on the floorboards, but seeing Tatsuki, childhood friend and past karate rival, staring down at him like that… He gulped softly, hating how warm his cheeks started to feel. Her eyes; he'd never seen them so… shimmery, glazed. His heart struck his ribs like a hammer on an anvil. Whenever she had bested him in karate, pinned him in triumph, he could never get out beneath her weight. When did she become so light?

"T-Tat…?"

A flash of lightning, a thunderclap, and a kiss…

Not a fantasy, not a daydream, not a calculated theory in the realm of possibilities… A kiss, one that Tatsuki deliberately connected, one that she intended to give deep and passionate, almost squeezing Ichigo's ears as she pulled his face against hers. She kissed him, tenderly, then passionately, then like she was afraid to let him go; afraid of his reaction, afraid of his rejection. But let him go, she had to.

The moment of truth was preceded with palpable silence, and then…

"… Suki…"

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End file.
